


Fuck The Universe™

by MinaHowlter



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Death, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of drugs, Minor Character Death, Smoking, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, dan kills for a living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaHowlter/pseuds/MinaHowlter
Summary: Everybody is born with two marks on each wrist.The one on their left holds the name of the person's soulmate. The other one holds the name of the person, who will kill them.And sometimes people are born with identical names on both wrists.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Phil Lester's marks began appearing once he turned 18. They began faintly, he could barely make out any letters. It seemed that both names were short. And.. similar-looking.  
He never thought anything about it. He always heard his friends talk animatedly about it.

"Mom said it will fully appear when you come across this person!"

But they never talk about the mark on their other wrist. Stinging with every passing day, as if someone is dragging a knife across his arm, barely cutting in, but leaving lines behind.  
Phil always felt that pain, but stronger. It felt like something continuously scraping his skin.

And, so, he tried to ignore it. He had more than enough on his plate as it is.  
His dad was dying. His job was barely paying him enough to take care of him and himself. Nothing was right.  
So Phil Lester resorted to stealing. He'd always wait until then store he worked in reached closing hours and would briefly pick up a few things.  
Nobody checked the cameras anyways -- he just wanted to have a warm meal when his dad wasn't busy trying to stay awake in his room. He wanted to get him the medicine he would usually not be able to afford. He just wanted his dad to live.

Phil Lester was 25 when he saw his mark for the first time.  
He had been scrolling through their old computer, looking at the news, when he saw the two letters. 

D.H.

There had been news of a murder in town. It didn't worry Phil, not at all. The guy who got killed was a rapist, had quite the extensive criminal record. He deserved to die.  
But then he felt it.  
There was a surge of pain, and a surge of emotions. His heart was beating rapidly, but he felt something like a stab in his wrist.  
He looked down.

D.H.  
On both of his wrists.

It was the first time his dad had to take care of his son, who had his first panic attack.


	2. Chapter 2

The weather was nowhere near as nice as books would describe it.  
There wasn't a cool autumn breeze. It was cold, rainy and muddy. 

Phil was walking back home when he met him.  
When he met his soulmate, and his end.

Phil had just picked up his father's medicine. He'd taken money from the register and had pocketed it, in order to head to the pharmacy.   
He wasn't alright. His dad's condition was getting worse. His blood pressure was more than distressing. He had gotten a fever. He couldn't stomach a single thing. Drinking water was as difficult as staying awake was.

Something washed over Phil.  
He had to sit down -- the bench felt wet under him, but he didn't have the heart to care. He was falling apart. The pain in his wrist and the weird feeling in his tummy only got worse, the more he read about this D.H. individual. Nobody knew what the killer looked like. They could just find two letters, barely eligible, scribbled somewhere around his victims with a black sharpie, and that was that.

He suddenly smelled smoke.  
Phil turned around, only to find a boy sitting beside him. He looked young, probably barely in his twenties, with a cigarette between his lips.  
His stomach twisted. His heart constricted. And the pain in his wrist was becoming unbearable.

"D'you want a smoke?" the other asked.  
Phil's brain was becoming fuzzy. He couldn't tell the difference between love and pain in that moment.   
Yet he kept calm.   
If this was his soulmate, and his killer, he seemed nice enough.

"I won't say no." 

The boy handed him a cigarette from his box, along with a lighter.   
Their fingers brushed for a moment, and they both had to pull back.

The other looked positively terrified for a split second.   
And, then, Phil saw a smile adorn his lips. The pain had subsided to the point where it was back to the normal slight sting. But his heart never calmed down.

"Would it be too pushy to ask for your wrists?"

"Not if you show me yours, too."

D.H.  
P.L.  
On both of their wrists.


	3. Chapter 3

"Phiiil?"   
Phil rolled his eyes when he saw Dan stroll into the apartment. It was nearing 10 in the evening and Phil found himself smoking on the couch when the other walked in.  
He had keys.  
Phil knew he was a killer. His killer. But he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Dan set his shoes down beside Phil's, before collapsing on the couch. 

"They're talking shit about me again." the younger whined. Phil had to stifle a laugh. He had come to find out that the other was nowhere near as malicious as media portrayed him to be. He was young, whiny and sweet.

"You did kill a person, Dan."

"He had been sexually assaulting kids, for fucks sake! If anything, he did not deserve to live."   
Phil laughed again. Dan had a point. 

"But legally it's seen as a crime. On both ends."

Dan huffed as he crossed his arms and sat back. They stood in silence for a few seconds, the only noise coming from the distant sounds of his dad's television playing something.   
They had moved it to his room from the living room, because he had told them the silence felt awful. So, they'd taken it there, plugged it in, and let the poor man watch something to drown the deafening silence out.

"How is he doing?" Dan asked at some point. He had lit up a cigarette for himself, puffing little rings of smoke from between his lips.  
Phil shrugged.

"Not well. It's starting to affect his brain, too."

"We need to get him into hospital. If anything, they will keep him healthier than he is in here."

"And the medical bills?"

"I can cover them."

Phil turned to look at Dan. The other seemed relaxed, as he took a sip from Phil's hour-old coffee.   
Phil felt his heart constrict when their eyes met.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because, first of all, it's my soulmate's dad. Second of all, I've seen what it's like. Mom lost dad a while back, but she is still alive. It hurts, of course, but if she could pull through, so can your dad."

Tears were forming in Phil's eyes. If Dan noticed it, he definitely did not address anything. He simply reached out, cupping Phil's cheek in order to run his thumb over his cheekbone. His touch felt like fire. Painful, but good.  
Phil unconsciously leaned into the touch.

"Don't cry, Phil. You clearly can't afford it, in order to actually live, but I can."

"Where do you get this money, Dan?"

"Did you forget that I'm being paid for killing these people? I pick them out, but I get paid."

Phil's lip trembled.   
Dan's hand moved to cup his jaw gently.

"I'll do anything to help you, Phil. You know that."

It was becoming too much. Did he only feel this pain? Why was Dan so calm? Wasn't his heart going crazy? Didn't his skin sting?  
He couldn't hold his tears back anymore. 

"Why?"

"Because I love you. And you know that.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil had never seen the name on his father's right wrist.  
He would always cover it up, whether it was with bracelets or long sleeved shirts. And he never thought anything of it. Maybe his dad did not want to be reminded of the person, who was supposed to kill him. Maybe he just didn't want Phil to be worried.

Phil wished he could do that. Just force himself to somehow forget the name of his killer. But every time he looked at his left wrist, he was reminded of the name on his right one.  
Dan had gone out, probably to get some work done, leaving Phil by himself in his home. It gave him time to think.

How will they die? If they were destined to kill each other, will it be because of necessity? Or will it be because of love?

Dan was a mystery to Phil. At first glance, Phil wouldn't be able to guess that a 21 year old boy was a wanted criminal. His smile was too pure. His eyes were too genuine. His features were too soft.  
Phil did not know why Dan had resorted to killing people. And Dan didn't want to tell him.

"Phil, I'm back," he heard his voice. Phil was pulled out of his mind, head turning to glance at the other. He had changed his clothes and his hair seemed newly-washed.  
Phil sent the other a small smile as he waited for him to sit down.

"Did all of your work?" he asked simply. Dan nodded as he collapsed beside the other.   
It was silent for a few seconds. 

"Phil? Do you think we'll really kill each other?" 

It seemed that Dan had been thinking about the same things. Phil didn't want to answer. He was scared. He knew he didn't want to lose Dan. Dan didn't want to lose him, either.  
He shrugged.

"Well, if the Universe put our names on our wrists, it is kind of inevitable."

"Fuck the Universe."

Dan lit up a cigarette and handed it to Phil. He took a few puffs, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"Yeah. Fuck the Universe."

It was a strange thing, that Universe.   
It puts the name of the person you are destined to spend your life with, yet it also puts the name of the person who is destined to be your end.  
And, logically, the two names were supposed to be different. A person's destiny and their end were not supposed to collide.

But for Dan and Phil, they did.  
And it somehow made their love even stronger


	5. Chapter 5

They kissed under the rain.

Phil hugged Dan's waist one night, and brought him close. The umbrella in Dan's hand dropped as he went to cup Phil's cheeks.  
Their noses bumped. There was laughter. And then they kissed.

Dan's lips were chapped. Phil wanted to laugh -- books never described first kisses like they were in real life. At least not the books Phil had read. They were messy, they were clumsy, but that made them perfect.  
They could feel the rain belting down onto the pavement, making their clothes and hair wet. Water dripping in-between their lips as they kissed.

It was perfect.

"Phil, Phil, we're gonna get wet!" he heard the boy's screech. He had lost himself in his brain. His vision focused on his soulmate, who looked horrified, letting out inhumane screeches every time water would drip down his neck.  
Phil found himself smiling. So big and so fond, to the point where he probably looked crazy. Dan was scrambling to retrieve his umbrella, never noticing Phil's dopey smile.

But it seemed that The Stupid Fucking Universe, with a trademark, had to notify him, because he looked up. Their eyes met, and suddenly, they were both laughing.   
Because they were so dumb. So stereotypical. So fucking sad.

Laughing felt good. After a while of not being able to, or not having a reason to, Phil found himself laughing harder than he was supposed to. Following him, Dan was hollering, tears collecting in his eyes as he did so.  
It was sort of bittersweet.  
Yet they couldn't find it in themselves to care.

In that moment, they were truly happy.

Happy, as in they did not want to die.  
Happy, as in they kept hugging each other and pressing kisses all over each other's faces as they danced like lunatics.  
Happy, as in collapsing in hysterical laughter when Phil slipped and dragged Dan along with him.

Happy, as in The Universe was finally smiling upon them.  
For the first time, they didn't curse at it. Well, Phil didn't. Dan did, but Phil couldn't get enough of the smile that was on his lips and kept pressing kisses on top of it.

For the first time, Dan skipped on his murderous job.  
For the first time, they didn't focus on the pain in their right wrists.  
They focused on the feeling in their tummies as they greeted Phil's dad with a warm meal and huge grins.  
They focused on the way he grinned right back at them, despite the pain.

Dan and Phil focused on the moment.  
Not on what The Stupid Fucking Universe had in store.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes, you just have to accept that not everything lasts.  
Not all happy moments stay forever. Nor do the sad ones.

But for Dan Howell and Phil Lester, The Universe had more than 'just a sad moment'.

The evening was like any other -- it was routine to meet up every night instead of during the day. Dan had to cover up, just in case. Phil just hated being outside when he didn't have to be.

His father had fallen ill once again. For a few days, he had managed to get back onto his feet. He helped Dan and Phil make dinner. He even got more food after finishing his plate.  
For once, Phil was able to enjoy spending time with his little family. 

But, as usual, not all good things last forever.  
He had passed out while brushing his teeth. Dan had found him with his head bleeding, on the bathroom floor.  
One ambulance and one panic attack from Phil later, his father was admitted into hospital for urgent care.

And Phil fell apart.   
He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He never showed a single emotion, even when he looked at Dan that night. 

"I'm paying his bills."

"No, you're not." 

"Phil! I told you. I earn so much more money, and you need to take care of yourself somehow!"

This wasn't fair.  
He wasn't even able to pay for his own dad's recovery.

"I want to earn that money." 

Dan looked at him with raised brows. How on Earth could Phil even try to think about earning such big amounts of money in less than a month?   
Unless...

"Don't.. don't tell me what I think you will." he began, just as Phil was about to speak.  
He couldn't even imagine it. His precious, sweet sunshine.. killing people for money.  
But then a less rational, but more sympathetic side of him told him, that Phil needed this money. And he was doing it for his father.

So, he did the worst.

"You know what?" he had to pause to take a breath in. He needed a cigarette, "Fine. But. You're going to follow me, and you are NOT doing anything by yourself."

And that is exactly what happened. From Dan and Phil, each other's soulmate, and each other's poison, they became D.H and P.L-- known criminals that nobody seemed to want to reach. Nobody seemed to want to catch them.   
It was like The Stupid Fucking Universe kept playing games with them. Making them feel unreachable. Making them feel invincible. 

But that's what The Universe was.   
Cruel. Always playing with them.


	7. Chapter 7

The Universe seemed to enjoy being a dick.

Whilst it made sure D.H and P.L were safe, it also made sure Daniel Howell and Phil Lester kept being hurt.

Phil woke up to his phone ringing urgently. He wanted to groan and go back to sleep. He wanted to rest. But something in his stomach told him not to. For the first time in a while, the pain in his right wrist was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart.

His father had commit suicide.  
And suddenly, the World came crashing down, for Phil Lester. Even when Dan came bursting in, panting, Phil was not able to feel that familiar sensation in his tummy. Those familiar butterflies. It was too much. He could only feel so much.

It all made sense to him, suddenly. Why his dad never showed his right wrist.   
For his own name had been there, his entire life. It was his late mother who had been saving her husband from himself. It was her, who made him strong. Until she wasn't there. And along with the pain of losing his soulmate, his dad had also been left with the pain of knowing he'd be the one to take his own life.  
But.., it was okay, wasn't it?  
He was with her, now. He was happy.

Phil Lester was not, though.  
He felt it in the way his hands worked more brutally that night. He felt it in the way Dan looked at him, his eyes full of pain, as they escaped the crime scene and made their way back home. He felt it in the way Dan held him close and whispered words they both know were not going to lessen that pain.

Because the Universe was finally breaking them.  
It was finally opening up, showing its true colors, and shattering their hearts with every passing day.

Dan began feeling more worn out. He began staying up later, smoking more, and barely managing to break a smile throughout the day.  
Phil began feeling empty. He began smoking just as much, sleeping every second he could so he did not have to stay awake and bear what the Universe had in store for them. 

D.H and P.L were thriving.  
Daniel Howell and Philip Lester were slowly dying.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a drug dealer, this time.  
A man, who had forced kids into taking drugs. Innocent high school students, who had just wanted the thrill of life with no consequences. But rather than money, he demanded something else. He demanded so much more.

That was the night D.H and P.L finally morphed back into Daniel Howell and Philip Lester.  
It began normally, with someone tracking the guy down, sending them his coordinates, before telling them to make it messy.  
They would.  
But not only for the man.

Dan had this grace that enveloped his body every time a gun or a knife was clutched in his big hands. The same hands, that would map out constellations in Phil's skin.  
Phil..., he was less graceful, but that made it fun for them. To see the mess. To know where exactly to plunge the knife in order to keep the victims alive and in pain. 

It... it felt good.  
Knowing they are unreachable. Knowing that the news will he warning citizens, not even realizing that Daniel Howell and Philip Lester are eating their cereal back in Phil's apartment, cackling at the speculations made about them. 

But whilst D.H. and P.L. were unreachable, Daniel Howell and Philip Lester were vulnerable. They covered up their broken hearts with walls and masks, choosing to be the predators instead of being the victims. They chose to kill, rather than to be killed.  
But, that was how the Universe worked, right? Kill or be killed. Either you take the upper hand, or the World crushes you underneath its weight.

Right?

Phil registered noises around them the moment he saw Dan dodge something. He blinked a few times, focusing back on the present, as he looked around. They were surrounded. This man knew they were to come. So he came prepared. A predator against his own kind.   
His hand clutched the gun as he analyzed his surroundings -- the men were not that many, but they seemed strong. Muscles straining against tanned, calloused skin. Threatening to break it apart. 

But Dan and Phil had something these men did not.  
They had tactics.  
They were light on their toes, dodging attacks easily, cocking their guns, and letting the piercing sound drown the deafening silence. And just like that, they were down.   
The kids were rushing out, screaming, crying for help; regretting ever letting themselves be involved in something like that.

There was silence.  
And then, there were sirens. 

"That's fun," Phil heard Dan gasp out in between ragged breaths. He turned to look at him, the adrenaline making his blood boil, as he reached up with a bloody hand to brush a strand of the younger boy's hair back.  
Their wrists stung, but for the first time, it was overpowered by the feeling deep inside their hearts. It was something sensational, that muted the threatening shouts around them, leaving them with each other.  
Gazing into each other's eyes. The same eyes, that would be sharing numb looks between each other back at home. This time, they were shining. They were bright. 

In that moment, Daniel Howell and Philip Lester realized why the Universe put their names on their wrists. They realized why the Universe made them each other's purpose and poison.   
In that moment, their thoughts and movements were in sync.  
In that moment, they realized that if it was someone else's name on their rights wrists, they would not be able to bear the weight of the World on their shoulders. 

For Daniel Howell and Philip Lester could not live without each other.

There was a beat.  
A deafening bang.  
Their wrists were no longer burning.

That night, the Universe finally cried.  
It cried for two boys, that lay motionless next to each other, their left hands entwined, as two guns threatened to break their seemingly frail wrists. The same wrists, that held their names. 

For Daniel Howell and Philip Lester were meant to be together. In life and in death.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this thing!!!  
> I honestly have no idea what it is, I thought of it in the middle of class a while ago and only finished it a few days ago.


End file.
